


The Cage is Full, The Day is New

by banerries



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ensemble Cast, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Survival, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banerries/pseuds/banerries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the zombie apocalypse quickly overruns the world around them, the women of Litchfield must rely on each other to survive. Set after season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Swine Flu

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time trying to write most of these characters, so any crit on characterization and/or voice is appreciated!
> 
> Though this fic takes place in the universe of The Walking Dead TV series, it likely won't involve any TWD canon characters.

_“— that at this time, no information about the cause of the virus has been released to the media. Just a few minutes ago, a national state of emergency was officially declared, and residents all over the country are being told to remain in their homes or places of business until they are evacuated. Those who are outdoors or in their cars are to—”_

“Are you guys _seeing_ this?” Luschek asked, looking around the CO break room for confirmation. 

“Seeing what?” Bell didn’t look up from her sandwich.

“The CNN thing. They’re talking about some kind of outbreak.”

 “Oh. Swine flu again?”

“I wouldn’t be talking about it if it was swine flu, man; come on. Just listen to this.” He pulled himself up out of his chair to grab the remote, upping the volume just as the screen switched to a shot of a crowded, chaotic city block. “ _Jesus_ , they’re rioting in the streets!” That turned a few more heads.

_“This is the scene outside CNN Center here in Atlanta this morning, as panicking civilians take to the streets. For those of you are who are just tuning in—”_

“That’s not swine flu,” O’Neill said slowly, coming up behind Luschek. “Seriously guys, come and look.”

One by one, the small group of COs broke away from whatever they’d been doing before and gathered around the TV. Not a minute later, the room’s wall speaker crackled to life.

_“All correctional officers report to meeting room three. Repeat, all correctional officers report to meeting room three.”_

Dazed, the COs looked over at the speaker, then back at the TV.

“I don’t know, this looks— I think we should keep watching this,” said O’Neill, his brow furrowing. “If we don’t go, do you think Caputo will—”

“For God’s sake, O’Neill, the meeting’s _about_ this,” Bell snapped. “You heard it, it’s nationwide.”

Just then, the door to the break room swung open and Bennett stuck his head in.

“Guys? Caputo said pull the plug on the inmates’ TV.”

 

* * *

 

“Sharks.”

Taystee snorted, shooting Black Cindy an incredulous look. “Girl, have you _seen_ the suckers on a fully-grown octopus? They latch onto something, and they never letting go. They could pull a shark apart _easy_.”

“Well, wait, what kinda sharks we talking here? ‘Cause you know there’s them itty- _bitty_ ones, but then there’s—“

“Sorry guys, no TV time today.” A CO strode past them into the rec room, unplugging it from the wall.

“But we were gonna watch _Wild Kingdom_!” Taystee protested.

“It’s not up to me,” the CO said firmly, wrapping the cord around the TV stand. “Boss’s orders. Go play cards.”

“ _Shit_.” Taystee shook her head disgustedly, watching the CO leave, then plopped down into a chair. Cindy followed suit.

“Yo, you hear Caputo calling all the guards down for a meeting? Maybe we in trouble.”

“Whatever it is,” Taystee said, “It’d better be good.”


	2. We Still Have a Job to Do

“So as you can see,” said Caputo, leaning forward over the lectern, “It is _absolutely imperative_ that we all remain calm and keep order.”

The room was dead silent. A sea of shellshocked faces looked back at him.

“I know you’re gonna want to call your families. We’ll be doing that in shifts. After I’m done with you guys I still have to talk to the rest of the staff— infirmary’s next— so you’re gonna keep quiet about this in the halls. There’s procedure to follow. We still have a job to do.” A couple people nodded. The rest just stared. One of the newest COs— a young one, only his second month on the job— muffled a sob, and the woman sitting next to him put an arm around his shoulders.

“The warden has ordered the prison be put on full lockdown. No one enters or leaves this building until the military shows up to evacuate us. I want two guards at every door to the outside. I want all inmate radios and listening devices confiscated. I want the public phones shut off. I don’t want any of you guys listening to the media, making calls, or using the internet unless you’re in a staff-only area, behind a _closed, locked_ door. We are _not_ telling the prisoners about this yet. Is that clear? As far as they’re concerned, this is a normal day.”

“Sir.” Another young CO put her hand up. “What do we tell them about the radios and the phones? They’re going to—“

“We don’t tell them anything,” Caputo interrupted. “We tell them this is a federal prison, not a country club, and they’ll get them back when they get them back. Our job is to protect these women, not to be their friends, and right now we need to avoid a full-scale panic. _Keep them in the dark._ Is that understood?”

There weren’t any protests, and if Caputo hadn’t been at the center of attention right then, he would have let out a long sigh of relief. This was unbelievable. All his excitement and eagerness over his promotion had evaporated the moment the warden had called with the news. It was all he could do to keep his voice from shaking as much as his hands— shoved into his pockets and hidden from view— were. If the COs had rioted, he doubted he would have been able to stop them.

“Good.” He clapped his hands, straightening up. “Halloran, you disconnect the public phones. Bennett, go around and collect the radios. Thomas, Reilly, Bell, Franklin, Gomez, Ricci— come up here for your door assignments. The rest of you, carry on as usual. I’ll call people down when it’s their turn to call home. We’re gonna get through this, everybody.” He wondered if he should try for a reassuring smile— but he wasn’t sure if he could pull it off, and not landing it would be more unnerving than not trying at all. Instead he kept his face serious and professional, and stepped away from the lectern, signaling to everyone that they could go. It was a moment or two before anybody moved. Then somebody stood, and one by one the rest did too.

“Hey.” Bennett jumped when Bell touched his arm. 

“I— yeah?”

“You okay?” There wasn’t a single person in the room who didn’t look shocked, afraid, or both, but Bennett looked worse than most. Bell had been sitting next to him, and she’d noticed him tense up when Caputo had started telling them how to handle the situation with the inmates.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine; don’t worry, I’m fine. But listen, I gotta go. You heard him, I have to— you know. The radios.”

Bell nodded and let go of his arm. He gave her a returning nod over his shoulder, then hurried out of the meeting room, turning left down the hall and making a beeline for C-Dorm.


	3. Don't Scare the Pregnant Girl

“It’s another hurricane. That’s gotta be it, _estoy segura_.”

 “So it’s gotta be a bad one, right? They turned off the TV because there’s news coverage and they don’t want us to see.”

 _“Ay!”_ Gloria rounded on them, giving Maritza a light slap upside the head and fixing Flaca with a steely look. “Don’t scare the pregnant girl.”

“Sorry, Daya,” Flaca said absently, sitting up on her elbows. “I don’t think it’s raining.”

“ _Sí_ , not yet, but they report on these things early, you know.” Maritza shrugged, looking around at the others gathered in Gloria’s bunk. “I’m not trying to scare her. But we wanna prepare her, because of last time. If it—“ The clatter of footsteps cut her off, and they all looked up to see Officer Bennett rushing down the aisle towards them.

“Hey guys, is Daya h— oh, thank God.” Relief spread across his face when he spotted her reclining on Gloria’s bed. “Can we have a second?” Maritza gave everyone a significant look (then immediately had to dodge Gloria’s hand again) as they stood and filed out.

“He’s gonna tell her about the hurricane,” Flaca whispered urgently the second they were out of earshot. Gloria rolled her eyes.

“He’s gonna talk to her about the _baby_ the way he always does, so _cállate la boca_ and _ven conmigo_ ; let them do their thing.”

 

* * *

 

“So… wait.” Tiffany leaned further over the sink, peering into the dirty mirror. “Do I gotta keep cutting it? Keep it short? ‘Cause you know it’s just gonna keep growing back; it’s already almost longer than my ears.”

Boo considered the question, trying to decide which answer would bring the most amusement. “… Eh. I’ll tell you what. Since you’ve been doing so well with the initiation, we’re gonna let you grow it out. If you can remain true to the movement, you won’t have to worry too much about looking the part.”

“Okay.” Tiffany tugged a strand of her hair down, as if she could pull it longer right now. She 'd never had hair this short in her life— and while she was getting used to it, sometimes it still took her a moment to recognize herself when she saw her reflection in passing. “But how do I remain true?”

Boo walked over to stand next to her at the mirror, copying the tugging gesture with a strand of her own hair and making Tiffany grin. “You say your prayers every night before bed, right?”

“Of course.”

“Before you do that, you’re going to have to recite the Dyke Pledge of Allegiance. Don’t worry— it’s short, and easy to memorize. I’ll jot it down and get it to you by the end of the day.” Once she wrote it.

Tiffany nodded seriously. “That don’t sound so—“ She was cut off by the blaring of the alarm. Both women hit the floor.

“ _Again_?” Tiffany shook her head incredulously. “We just had one of these a few weeks ago for that black lady.“

_“All inmates return to your bunks for a count immediately.”_

“Yup,” said Boo, hauling herself off the ground and offering Tiffany a hand up. “One of us makes it out and gets hit by a van, and suddenly everybody wants a piece of the action. Come on. I’ll teach you the Dyke Pledge some other day.”


	4. Y Será Terrible

_Don’t scare the pregnant girl._ But Daya was scared. John hadn’t told her everything— he’d blurted out disjointed details in spurts, continually looking around to make sure that no one, guard or inmate, was close enough to listen in. It wasn’t his words that had scared her so much as his body language— his tense, worried face, and the nervous jiggle in his good leg. The way he’d squeezed her hand just a little too hard before he’d had to run off to B-Dorm.

Here was what Daya knew: something bad was happening. It was on the news. There was some sort of disease spreading, and it was bad enough that the government was going to evacuate the prison. Inmates weren’t supposed to know. John could get in a lot of trouble for telling her. She couldn’t tell anyone else.

But how could she _not_ tell anyone else?

She’d been angry; she hadn't been able to help it. “You tell me this, and then you say I can’t tell my friends? My family?” Her voice had been an angry whisper, but it had still been too loud for John’s taste; he’d frantically gestured for her to keep it down. He was just trying to protect her, he’d said. Her and the baby. 

Now, as she walked back to Gloria’s cube, she was in a daze. The decision of whether to tell or not to tell was made for her the moment the others saw her, because fear and confusion was written all over her face.

“See? You see her?” Maritza said, looking around at the others for confirmation. She and Flaca had been gathering up their things to go back to their bunks for the count. “I told you it was bad news.”

Daya sank back down onto Gloria’s bed.“Yeah. But it’s no hurricane.”

 

* * *

 

Lockdown or no lockdown, the news quickly spread throughout Spanish Harlem, whispered to bunkmates and passed in notes over wall partitions. Daya only told her closest friends, but those close friends had other close friends they wanted to tell, and suddenly all of C-Dorm was abuzz with talk about it. It was swine flu. No, it was mad cow disease, making a comeback. No, it was something completely new and different, and nobody knew how to deal with it; that’s why everyone was so worried.

Later, no one would be able to agree on who first floated the idea that maybe this evacuation rumor wasn’t meant to save everyone. Common consensus was that it was Maritza’s fault, but she insisted that she hadn’t come up with it— she just thought it made sense.

“I mean, think about it, right?” she said, addressing both her bunkmate and the girls in the cube next to her. “They’re not gonna take us all out of here for some disease. You ever hear of quarantine? No, they’re gonna save all the guards and put the rest of us in max so we can’t catch anything, _y será terrible_. If it’s bad it could take months. They’re just not telling us because they don’t want us to riot.”

Bell, standing at the door station she’d been assigned to, heard the arguing and commotion from all the way down the hall. “For fuck’s sake,” she muttered. The CO bubble in there had to be empty— everyone was guarding the exits, not the prisoners. This would have to be on her. 

“Ladies! Quiet down in h—” The moment she pulled open the door to the dorm, she knew something was wrong. The room suddenly went dead silent. Thirty anxious, confused faces stared back at her.

“… Oh, shit.” 

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean, _they know_?” Caputo paced the length of the room, agitated. “Who’s been running their mouth?”

“Bell said it’s just C-Dorm,” Bennett said woodenly, desperately hoping that his face didn’t give him away. “She wanted me to let you know when I brought the radios.”

“Well, this is just fucking peachy. We have a disease epidemic, we’re waiting for evacuation orders, and there’s some loudmouth running around and gossiping with the inmates.” Bennett stared at the floor.

“No bathroom breaks. No leaving their bunks for any reason, _especially_ to leave their dorms. They can piss on the floor if they have to, because I don’t want this spreading. Go tell everyone that any CO panicking or getting chatty will be removed from contact with the inmates immediately. If they’re freaking people out, we can’t do this safely.”

“Yessir,” Bennett mumbled. “Should I…”

“Yeah, go do that now.” Once Bennett was gone, Caputo dropped himself into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands. The good news was that lockdown had already been initiated by the time the C-Dorm women found out— they wouldn’t be able to spread the news in the halls, or the kitchen, or the bathrooms. But they were less than an hour into this, and there had already been at least one screw-up. He didn’t relish having to tell the warden.

Caputo’s desk faced his office door; sitting at it the way he was now, his back was to the window. When his eyes were open, he could sometimes see movement outside out of the corner of his eye. Now, though, with his eyes closed and his head down, he couldn’t see anything. He completely missed the slow-moving, shambling figure as it passed by, close enough to briefly cast a shadow on the room before it moved on.


	5. A Pretty Stupid Bird

CO Ricci, new to the job and fucking terrified, comforted himself by remembering that he’d been given one of the easier assignments. He didn’t have to patrol the halls (his legs were shaking too much to walk reliably), or monitor the dorms (half the inmates still intimidated him), or do anything _really_ important. He just had to stand here and guard this door. Soon, he’d be called down to the boss’s office for his phone call. He’d talk to his parents, and they’d laugh at him for being silly. _Always such a worrywart, ever since you were a kid_ , Mom would say. _You know they always blow things out of proportion on the news_. Then Dad would point out that he was healthy as a horse, even at sixty— he’d never been sick a day in his life, and he wasn’t about to change that now.

Things would be fine.

About half an hour into his shift, he was startled out of his own head by a sudden knock on the door. It wasn’t a regular knock. It was more like a bang, followed by a couple scraping sounds. Ricci didn’t know what to do. Should he answer it? Caputo had said nobody was allowed in or out of the building, but honestly, this was a _prison_ — they were way more worried about out than in. This was probably just some guard who’d been taking a smoke break and forgotten his keys behind him.

“Uh… identify yourself,” Ricci said, trying to sound authoritative. There was no answer.

 _Probably a bird_ , he told himself. Birds flew into windows sometimes; did they ever fly into doors? It must have been a pretty _stupid_ bird.

_BANG._

Ricci yelled in surprise, jumping back from the door and looking around wildly for someone— anyone— who could tell him what to do in this situation. He’d been trained for emergencies— fires, hurricanes, even breakouts. He’d never been trained for this.

“Identify yourself!” he said, louder, forcing himself to take a couple steps back towards the door. This time, he got a low, pained moan in response.

Ricci had been a Boy Scout as a child. He’d worked as a lifeguard in high school, and as an EMT in college. There were a lot of things he could do. He could perform CPR. He could apply a tourniquet. He could stabilize someone with a neck or back injury. One thing he could not do was ignore someone who was hurt. He threw open the door.

He screamed. No one heard.

 

* * *

 

Luschek rounded the corner, stopped dead, and clicked on his radio. “Guys, whichever fuck-up was guarding the door by A-Dorm abandoned post and left the door open. Dibs on not being the unlucky sap who tells Caputo.”

Someone was going to get fired over this. He was calling it now.

 

* * *

 

He wore a black North Face jacket and a bright orange skullcap. He’d probably been a hiker, once. Now he was something different.

A-Dorm didn’t hear him coming any more than they’d heard Ricci’s screams. In theory, lockdowns were supposed to be orderly and quiet, but that rarely held up in practice— especially when the inmates weren’t actively being guarded. Notes and shouts passed freely from cube to cube. A couple of the bolder women left their bunks entirely, wandering into the aisle or popping by to see friends. When the door swung open, nobody noticed it at first— until someone screamed.

After that, things happened very quickly. Instinct took over. Most people ran. A couple dove under beds or desks, cowering until a friend or passing stranger hauled them out. Then there were those who were sure there was a rational explanation - a CO in a really, really good costume, having a bit of fun. Those theories were quickly dispelled the second the zombie lumbered up to a passing woman and grabbed her by the hair, sinking its teeth into her throat and _ripping_.

“Get out! Get _out!”_ Red ducked into one of the cubes closest to the door, reaching under a bed and pulling Brook out by the leg. She yanked her to her feet, shoving her in front of her. “Go; run!” 

In less than a minute, A-Dorm was deserted, its residents scattered throughout the wing. Only the zombie - and its meal - remained.


	6. Just Pretend Like You’re in a Movie

“Listen.”

Nobody listened. B-Dorm wasn’t any quieter than A-Dorm had been, and Poussey’s voice was completely drowned out. She strained to hear over the din. She was _sure_ she had heard a scream— a real one, and one not coming from this room. She stood and stepped out into the aisle. There it was again— a little louder this time. Closer.

 “Yo, listen _up!_ I think I just heard somebody—“

“Inmate!” Maxwell threw open the door, sticking her head into the room. “Back in your bunk. The rest of you, pipe down.”

“I heard somebody screaming.”

“I heard a bunch of somebodies screaming in _here_ , and you’re out of bounds, Washington. I’m not going to tell you again. Are you looking for a shot?” Maxwell reached for her pocket. Poussey retreated.

“Man, whatever.” She slouched back to her cube, warily eyeing the door over her shoulder. She knew what she’d heard.

As it happened, so did Maxwell. She left the dorm and shut the door firmly behind her, then immediately hopped on her radio.

“Whatever’s going down in A-Dorm, get it together quick. We can hear it from all the way over here.”

 

* * *

 

“In here!” Nicky dragged Morello down the hallway, trying doors as she went. Most of them were locked. On the fifth door, they got lucky. It was a tiny supply closet, barely big enough for two. A single bare bulb with a pull-chain hung from the ceiling. Nicky hesitated, then turned it on. Were zombies attracted to light? Was it even chasing them, or was it still.... She shuddered. She hadn’t known Marcia well at all, but she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get the image of her being _eaten_ out of her head.

As terrified as Nicky felt, Morello looked about ten times worse. Her cheeks were red and tear-streaked, and she wasn’t even trying to muffle her loud, panicked sobs.

“That was a _fucking zombie_ in there. A zombie!”

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey.” Nicky’s face was white and her hands were shaking hard, but she grabbed Morello’s shoulders as tightly as she could and hung on. “It’s gonna be okay. Just pretend like you’re in a movie, huh? You like that, right?”

Morello sniffed, shaking her head. “Not like this.”

 

* * *

 

“Lord, I pray for You to protect me and _blind_ this monster to me, keep it from coming in here— don’t let it find me. Don’t let it find me.” Tiffany, lucky enough to get herself into the only bathroom stall with a door, locked herself in and sat down on the toilet. She pulled her feet up off the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs. 

“I know You gotta let bad things happen to Your believers sometimes,” she whispered into her knees. “And I know I have done wrong. I’m a baby killer. I lied about being a killer in Your name. I’m wicked. But if You save me—” There was the sound of running footsteps outside. She froze, then exhaled with relief when they passed by without coming into the bathroom.

“I wanna be let into heaven someday. I do. But please. _Please._ ” She let out a hiccupy sob. “Don’t let me get eaten today."

 

* * *

 

“Ricci, respond. That’s an order, Ricci; pick up _now_.” No response. Caputo shook his head tersely, handing Luschek back his radio. Ricci was new, and young. He’d been crying during the initial briefing. The idiot had probably gotten scared and ran.

 _None of the outdoor guards have seen him_ , a little voice in the back of his head reminded him. _His car’s still in the parking lot. He didn’t try to get out through the front gates. He’s still on the grounds somewhere._

Time to change tactics.

“Find him,” he told Luschek. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t change positions or deviate from patrol. But you tell everybody that if they see him, they tell me right away. Don’t fuck this up.”

Luschek gave Caputo a sloppy mock-salute. “You got it, boss.”

He was barely out the door when his radio beeped.  _“Are you still with Caputo?”_ Bell’s voice sounded weird— detached and distant.

“Just left.”

_“Go back in there. Tell him— tell him we found Ricci. Tell him he has to come down to the C-Dorm bathroom, right now.”_


	7. Do Not Panic

They never made it to Ricci. The panicked mob from A-Dorm swept through the halls, and from there everything just _grew_. There was no more way to hide that something was very wrong, even if most people had no idea what it was.

B-Dorm emptied out next— Maxwell had no way of holding them back on her own. This was a job for a riot team, not a single guard equipped with only pepper spray and a baton. All she could do was duck to the side to avoid being trampled and shout desperately into her radio.

“B-Dorm is _out_ — B-Dorm has breached the lockdown, and I do _not_ ****have control! What the _hell_ is going on out there?”

_“All inmates return to their bunks immediately. Do not panic. All inmates return to their bunks immediately. Do not panic. All—”_

Maxwell shook her head, wishing she could tell Caputo that that was a lost cause. There was no way it was going to work— they were far beyond intercom announcement loops now. She hurried out into the hallway, and nearly collided with a white-faced Bennett.

He didn’t stop to chat. He brushed Maxwell aside without even acknowledging her, rushing on through the crowd of panicked B-Dormers. There was only one thing on his mind right now.

By the time Bennett reached C-Dorm, it was almost entirely empty.There were a few stragglers— people who were too afraid to go and check out the halls, and the friends who wanted to stick with them. He saw Ramos and Mendoza. If Daya wasn’t with them…

“John?” Daya sat up, her head popping over the wall divider. Bennett’s heart leapt.

“We have to go.” No lead-in; no preamble. There was no time to break this to her gently now. “We need to go _right now_ , Daya. People have died.”

“Who the fuck has died?” Maritza rose quickly to her feet. Gloria did the same, and everybody started talking at once. “Was it the disease?”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Answer her; spit it out.”

“We have to go get Flaca.”

“We have to go get my _mom_.”

“Stop it, all of you!” Bennett snapped. Then he saw the look on Daya’s face. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m— we can’t sit around here and talk.” He took Daya’s arm gently, helping her stand. “Let me get you out of here.”

Something about the way he said _out of here_ alarmed Gloria. “You mean out of the prison. Don’t you?”

Bennett’s silence was confirmation enough for all of them. Daya pulled her arm away, sitting back down. “You need to tell us everything.”

This time, he didn’t hesitate.

“Bell and I found a dead CO by A-Dorm. There’s someone in the prison attacking people; the other inmates are saying someone in A-Dorm died, too.” Daya’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, and Bennett took hold of her wrists. “Let me get you out of here. Right now.”

Just then, Aleida burst into the room, a teary-eyed Flaca at her heels.

“There’s some kind of cannibal serial killer in the prison— the stupid-ass white girls think it’s a zombie.” She stormed up to Bennett. “You gonna do right by my daughter and get her and her family out of here?”

“I can’t take all of you!” Bennett threw up his hands in exasperation. Aleida scoffed.

“There’s nobody paying attention; you can do whatever you want, _pendejo_. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The yard was a natural place to run to. The outdoors felt safer; less penned-in. One or two people ducking outside quickly became an avalanche, and before long, half the prison was milling around nervously on the grass. All eyes were on the building they had just come out of— nobody wanted to turn their back on it.

“He can’t really have been a zombie,” Piper repeated for the umpteenth time— trying to reassure anyone who would listen. Trying to reassure Brook, who was standing next to her. Trying to reassure herself. “Did you ever hear about those people who watch too many Dracula movies and then start trying to drink people’s blood? That’s what that was. He’s mentally ill. He’s a very, very sick man, and what he did to Marcia was horrible. But he isn’t a zombie.”

Weak-kneed and shaking, Brook reached out and clasped Piper’s arm, steadying herself.

“You wouldn’t say that,” she said, “if you’d seen its eyes.”


	8. I'll Be Right Back

“… It’s quiet,” said Morello suddenly, breaking the prolonged silence that had settled over the closet. “Isn’t it? It’s too quiet. Where did everybody go?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Nicky asked, staring at the doorknob - terrified that it would begin to turn. “They’re probably hiding like we are.” Morello let out a strangled sob.

“They’re dead. I can just feel it, can’t you? That— that _thing_ killed them all, and now—”

“They’re not dead, all right? Just… stop it; calm down. It’s okay.” Nicky rubbed Morello’s back, roughly but soothingly. “Don’t have a breakdown on me here, Morello; I swear to God.”

“Okay. Okay, you’re right.” She tried to take deep, calming breaths. “Maybe we should get out of here. I’m starting to feel a little claustrophobic, you know what I mean?”

“ _Fuck_ no,” was Nicky’s immediate response. She was pretty sure she didn’t ever want to leave this closet, and she sure as hell didn’t want Morello to. “Let’s just wait a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer, okay?”

Morello sobbed again, but nodded. “If we don’t hear footsteps for ten more minutes, then we go.”

“Good plan. Ten minutes, starting now.”

 

* * *

 

Maxwell slammed the door to the kitchen, shutting in herself and a small group of inmates. She hadn’t seen the attacker first-hand, but she’d heard enough to know that this was serious— by now, word had spread that Ricci and an A-Dorm inmate had been killed. _Brutalized_. And if the TV reports were right, it would spread. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. This was just insane. There was no protocol for this.

Then she spun around, facing the inmates— B-Dormers and A-Dormers who she’d been able to grab and shove into the room ahead of her. Others had run down the hall, down the stairs, outside… God knew where they were now, or what was happening to them.

“We’re still on lockdown,” she said slowly, aware of how ridiculous that sounded. “But the prison isn’t safe anymore. This is gonna sound nuts, but you all need to go through the back door and out the loading dock. Get out of here.”

Nobody moved.

“You heard me!” Maxwell snapped. “A CO _died_. An inmate _died_. This is some kind of brain virus that’s making people violent, and it’s _in_ here now, so you guys need to get out. If they won’t let you through the front gate, climb the fence and go through the woods. Nobody is going to stop you— they’re too busy with this.”

“You’re _really_ telling us to escape,” Taystee said, disbelief written across her face. “You a _guard,_ and you’re telling us to escape from prison.”

“I’m telling you this isn’t a prison anymore.” Maxwell brushed past her and the others, heading for the loading dock door. She threw it open. “It’s a death trap.”

 

* * *

 

“That way. Down there— go, go, go.” Daya went first. Gloria and Aleida, both jockeying for the position of her main helper, went next, followed closely by Maritza, Flaca, and Maria. Bennett hadn’t been happy about yet another new addition, but a snap from Gloria ( _“She’s family”_ ) and a glare from the rest had stifled any protests he might have made. They were now a group of seven, whether he liked it or not.

“There’s a side door down there,” Flaca said. “We can—”

“I know.” Bennett glanced back, making sure they weren’t being followed. “That’s where we’re going. Come on.”

They hurried along in silence, faces drawn and tense. When they neared the door, Bennett sped up, positioning himself at the front of the group. “We’re going to go to the main gate. We’re going to go to my car. I think they’re going to let us out.” He didn’t really think that. In fact, he was almost sure that this plan would fail— he was pretty confident that he could sneak out one person, but there was no way he could think of to get off-camp with six inmates in tow.

But when they tried it this way and it didn’t work, maybe it would be easier for him to convince Daya that she needed to come with him— alone.

“We’re gonna walk out just like that?” Maritza said skeptically. Aleida crossed her arms, also looking unimpressed.

“Really? You can’t come up with a plan better than that? _Ai_.”

“If you want to come up with something, be my guest. But unless you think of something in the next minute—” he was cut off by screams from outside. Flaca and Maria both took several quick steps back from the door; Gloria grabbed them to keep them from bolting.

“… Okay. Uh, stay here,” said Bennett. “I’m just… gonna go check that out. Nobody move.”

“John, _no_.” Daya grabbed him hard, fingernails digging into his arm. “Please don’t go out there.” She was almost in tears. “You can’t leave me.”

“Hey,” he said softly, bending slightly. “It’s gonna be okay. Don’t be scared. You… you’re gonna be with your mom, and your friends, and then we’re going to get out of here. Okay? You’ll be fine. Our baby will be fine. Just wait here for a second. This’ll take two seconds.”

“You promise.” Daya didn’t break eye contact.

“I promise. I’ll be right back.” She hesitated— and then nodded, letting him go. He went out the door.


	9. No Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter, the Major Character Death archive warning has been added to this story.

Someone came into the bathroom. Tiffany froze. This was it, she thought. She was going to die— die and get eaten, just like Marcia. The footsteps came closer. It sounded like they were headed right for her stall. A low whimper escaped her throat.

The footsteps stopped.

Tiffany’s breathing quickened, growing shallow and panicky— and loud. It had heard her. It had found her. Now it was just standing out there, listening to her hyperventilate. It was toying with her. It was waiting for the right moment to strike. It was going to rip her neck open. It was—

“Shut up.”

It was a woman. _Not the monster_ , she told herself, relief flooding through her body. _An inmate_. An unfamiliar one— she didn’t recognize the voice— but still not somebody that was going to hurt her. 

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” Tiffany snapped, voice still shaky. “We could fucking die, and you’re being a dick to me.”

“I’m helping you,” the woman replied. “You were making too much noise. There’s a loose wall tile in there. Find it.”

Tiffany frowned. “… Uh, this ain’t the time to be worrying about bathroom repairs.”

“Shut up and find it.”

Tiffany did as she was told. 

On the other side of the stall door, Blanca Flores could hear the the other woman— it was one of the white girls; she didn’t know which one— tapping and scratching at the tiles.Then there was a scraping sound, and a gasp of surprise.

“It’s a _phone_.”

“I’m coming under the door.”

“No, don’t—” But Blanca was already on the ground and crawling into the stall on her elbows and knees. The white girl was glaring at her. “We’re gonna get _found_ with you in here. I was here first. Get your own place.” But this was the only stall with a door, and they both knew it. Neither of them was going to be willing to go anywhere.

Now that she was in with her, standing up, Tiffany recognized her. She was a Spanish girl— the creepy witch-like one with the wild hair and wilder eyes. Of all the people to be trapped in here with… Tiffany continued to glare, but fell silent, scooting back and moving to sit up on the back of the toilet. The woman could probably turn into a monster and nobody would even know the difference.

“You gonna call someone?” Tiffany finally asked, eyeing Blanca as she messed around with the phone. Blanca didn’t respond at first. Then she made a frustrated sound and slapped the phone shut, shaking her head hard.

“No service.”

 

* * *

 

“But what if this is some crazy test shit? Tell us to escape, see what we do, tack some _time_ onto our sentences if we do it…”

“She’s right,” said Poussey, glancing back at Black Cindy. “They could be fucking with us, man. I say we just hang out here for a little bit.”

“Excuse me? Did you not hear her?” Taystee rounded on the other two. “You all can do what you want, but I’m not taking no chances in a place a CO called a _death trap_.”

“Hold on. Can we just talk about this for a second?” Ever the peacekeeper, Yoga Jones stepped in between the three women, holding up her hands. “Maxwell is a good woman. She wouldn’t try to trick us like that.”

“Who says she’s in on it?” Cindy shot back. A few of the others in the group nodded. Others weren’t so sure.

“I don’t know, guys, I think we should listen to the black lady,” Angie said. “Uh… that black lady.” She pointed at Taystee. “Not the other one. She’s right, you heard what the CO said. And I _saw_ what happened in A-Dorm. We were there— right, Yoga?”

“My _name_ is Cindy, bitch. Not _the other one_. And if you want to end up in max—” A flurry of screams suddenly broke out in the distance, stopping the argument.

“Yo, that’s coming from the yard!” Poussey exclaimed. “Fuck this, I changed my mind— let’s get out.”

 

* * *

 

Attracted by the large group of women congregating on the grass, the zombie had burst out of one of the now-unguarded doors, sending everyone scattering. Some ran back into the building. Some ran for the fences, planning to climb them. Others just ran, with no particular goal or direction in mind.

 _I need to be calm about this_ , Piper thought. _Panic is how people die_. She grabbed the two people nearest to her— Brook and Janae. “Come on! I’ll help you!”

“Get the fuck off me; I don’t need your help!” Janae wrenched herself away and took off on her own. Brook, in contrast, clung.

“Oh God, please don’t leave me. Piper? Let’s stick together; people need to stick together in survival situations. Let’s just—”

“I know, Brook.” Piper— far more panicked than she was trying to appear— started to haul the girl across the yard and towards the fence. “This way.” She spared Janae— who was running off in the opposite direction— a quick glance, but decided to just let her be. She couldn’t help anybody who didn’t want to be helped.

Janae didn’t look back. She never did; not when she was running. She didn’t need some lily-white girl to rescue her— she could rescue herself. And that was just what she was going to do, until she heard familiar voices coming from the other side of the building.

“—not gonna just let us walk out!”

“You got a better idea? ‘Cause if you think anybody’s getting over the fences with _barbed wire_ at the top—”

“Taystee!” Janae yelled. “Black Cindy!” But when she reached the fence, they weren’t there. They’d gotten outside, somehow— not outside the main perimeter fence, but outside of the yard. Out of her reach. And they were right— there was no way over this fence, or any of the fences. If she wanted to get out, she’d have to find some way to cut it open… or go back through the prison.

 

* * *

 

It was quiet. The screams weren’t coming from out here. Though he was worried about the other prisoners and guards who were no doubt being chased and attacked right now, Bennett still breathed a sigh of relief. The infected guy was out back somewhere— by the yard, probably— and wouldn’t be in the way of getting Daya out. 

Still, he wanted to make extra sure he wasn’t wrong. Tensions were high, and the prison was in a panic; the screaming could have been a false flag. Someone could have just _thought_ they were being attacked, and reacted accordingly.

So he stepped away from the building. He’d just look around for a little bit— check around corners, make sure the path really was clear. That sort of thing. It’d take him five minutes.

But five minutes was a long time when you were waiting for the father of your child to return to you. For Daya, it felt more like fifteen or more. Surely he didn’t need to be gone for so long, right?

She should check on him. She didn’t need to go out— she’d just open the door and look, and make sure he was doing okay. Before anyone could stop her, she pulled away from Gloria and her mom, opening the door and sticking her head out.

“John!”

He turned around to look at her. “Daya, stay insi—”

He wasn’t even able to get the full word out before Ricci suddenly appeared from around the corner that he now had his back to. Daya tried to scream out a warning, but it all happened in an instant. Ricci grabbed him by the arm, sinking teeth into flesh. Then he dragged him onto the ground and began to feast.


	10. Kill the Brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter, the Graphic Depictions of Violence archive warning has been added to this story. I don’t plan on putting in a ton of guts and gore, but it’ll crop up every so often (like it does here)! Anytime there’s going to be a particularly gross scene, I’ll make a chapter note at the beginning to warn for it.

Despite the chaos and confusion ruling the prison, there were a few pockets of relative calm. Mei Chang had found one of them. She sat on the floor of the commissary room (it had been locked; she’d picked it open), quietly eating the dry noodles from a pack of Ramen. 

It wasn’t that she wasn’t scared. She’d been in A-Dorm when the monster had burst in, and had seen what it had done to that pasty girl with the freckles (Mary? Marcie? Marcia? Something like that). But she knew not to _panic_. Let everyone else scream and cry and run around the prison, if it made them feel better. But Chang wouldn’t. She would wait.

And when the time came to act, she would know.

 

* * *

 

“I’m going.”

“Me, too.”

A couple of the other guards nodded in agreement with Bell and Maxwell. There were six of them in the room in total. Three more were still in communication as they patrolled the building, or tried to corral the inmates who’d fled out into the yard. No one knew where the rest were. They weren’t answering their radios.

O’Neill hesitated, then went to stand next to Bell. “If you’re going, I’m going.”

But not everyone looked so sure. “Caputo said the warden wants us to stay here,” one pointed out. “We should—”

“I don’t _care_ what Caputo said,” someone else interrupted fiercely. “We have _families_ out there. I have two little boys at home.” That sparked a clamor of voices.

“The inmates need us.”

“More than my kids? My husband?”

“She’s right; this is my job, not my life.”

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

“But if we’re not here, the prisoners could escape!”

“So what?”

All heads turned to Maxwell, everybody wondering if she’d really just said that. Maxwell spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “You want me to be honest? I don’t care if the inmates escape. The world’s going to shit, and this is a minimum security prison. Nobody’s going to be worrying about a bunch of twenty-year-olds with drug bust charges being back out on the streets. _So what_.”

“She’s right,” said Bell. “There’s a couple I’d think twice about. Doggett, Morello, Warren… you know, the dangerous crazies. But even our worst inmates aren’t as bad as the best of the diseased.” _If there’s even such as thing as “the best of them”_ , Bell thought privately. From what she’d heard and seen, it turned them all mindless. Out of control. _Evil_.

“You’re saying we should just tell them they can go.” Most of the other guards looked skeptical, but Maxwell stood firm.

“I’m saying I already have.”

 

* * *

 

Taystee peered cautiously around the corner, then signaled to the rest of the group that the coast was clear. She could hear screams coming from not too far away ( _“John, no! John! John!”_ ), but this was the only clear path out. Finding another way would mean going back into the prison, and none of them wanted that.

“Who’s John?” Poussey asked. “Is that one of the guards’ names?” Nobody knew. There was the heavy slam of a door, and the screams were muffled. They got quieter and quieter, and then disappeared altogether.

“Thank God,” Angie said, letting out a nervous chuckle. “That was really gonna get on my nerves.” When nobody replied, she went quiet, and they all continued on in silence.

Then Black Cindy stopped walking. “Stop,” she said. Taystee held up a hand to keep the others back.

“You hear that?”

“Yeah. Someone’s coming.”

“Bennett,” Yoga Jones said suddenly. “That’s who John is— I just remembered. Officer Bennett’s first name is John.” But it wasn’t Bennett that suddenly came around the corner, advancing on them. It was Ricci, his mouth still dripping blood from his latest kill.

Cindy didn’t think twice before spinning around and taking off. Most of the others froze— but not Taystee. She ducked behind Ricci and grabbed him by the shoulders. He thrashed and craned his neck to try to bite her, but she held on, dragging him over to the wall. She bashed his head hard against the side of the building— once, twice, then three times, until an audible _crack_ was heard. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, holding back vomit, and did it again. This time, it made a wet squelching sound, and blood and brain matter began to leak down the side of his head and onto her hands. She dropped him, and he feel limply to the ground.

Everybody stared at her.

“What?”she asked shakily. “You gotta kill the brain. Didn’t any of you guys ever see a zombie movie before?”


	11. There’s Nothing Here For You Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates! I've been really busy with school, so things are going to be a bit slower than they were in the summer.
> 
> Someone also pointed out to me that the word "zombie" (along with zombie media) doesn't exist in the universe of The Walking Dead-- I had not been aware of this, so thanks for letting me know! I guess this can't really be a true crossover/fandom fusion because of that, but I am going to continue modeling the zombies in this story on TWD zombies.

It took both Aleida and Gloria to drag Daya away from the door. Flaca slammed it shut, and Maritza clapped her hand over Daya’s mouth, trying to muffle her screams.

“Daya, it’ll _hear_ us; you need to shut your mouth right now!” But Daya wasn’t listening.

“We have to help him!”

“We can’t help him! There’s nothing we can do. He’s dead; you saw him. He’s dead! He’s _dead!_ ”

 _He’s dead._ Flaca took up Maritza’s words, but in her head rather than out loud. _I just saw someone get ripped apart. I saw a monster, who used to be a person, eating another person. I hear his skin rip. I saw his blood shoot up onto the air like a fountain, maybe like from a burst blood vessel._ Her legs suddenly felt weak. She walked backwards until her back hit the wall, and then she started to slide down to the floor.

Nobody noticed at first. Aleida and Maria were struggling to keep Daya from making a break towards the door, and Maritza was still shouting in her face, trying to get her to snap out of it and get moving. Gloria was in the middle of looking for something to block the door with when she spotted Flaca curled up on the floor, shaking violently.

“Don’t yell; it’s not going to work,” she instructed Maritza sharply. “She isn’t hearing a word you’re saying, _pobrecita._ Just pin her arms and get her out of here.” Then she dropped down next to Flaca and took hold of her arm, lightly tugging her up.

“Okay _mami_ , come on.” She wrapped an arm around Flaca’s shoulders, letting the girl lean heavily on her. Aleida looked up, saw them, and copied the gesture with Daya.

“Let’s go, baby," she cooed in her daughter's ear. "There’s nothing here for you now.”

 

* * *

 

When Boo rounded the corner and saw Nicky and Morello hurrying in her direction, she immediately threw up her hands. “Woah! Not this way. Bad idea. The thing’s in the yard.”

“ _Shit_.” Ten more minutes in the closet had ended up turning into almost an hour, and by that point, even Nicky had started to feel a little antsy. The open air and freedom of the yard had sounded like a good bet in comparison. “Well, what about the front?”

“Haven’t tried it. Not really interested in risking anywhere without a lot of places to hide.” Boo bent over for a moment to try to catch her breath, her hands resting on her knees. Then she looked up and met Nicky’s eyes. “The laundry room?”

Nicky glanced at Morello. “You got a better idea?” When Morello shook her head wordlessly, the three of them took off.

Amazingly, they seemed to have been the first to think of the idea. The laundry room was deserted. Boo spent the first five minutes checking all the washers and dryers, just to be safe. Morello hoisted herself up onto one of the tables, and Nicky went to stand next to her. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I was just thinking about Christopher. Isn’t that silly? After everything he said to me, I’m still worried about him.” She sighed heavily, slumping her shoulders. “I guess that’s love.”

“We’re clear!” Boo suddenly called from across the room, saving Nicky from having to respond. “The laundry room is zombie-free.”

“Jesus. How can you be so casual about this?” Nicky wandered over to her; Morello, not knowing what else to do, hopped off the table and followed. “I’ve been freaking out since this started. And— oh, hey.” Nicky nudged Boo with her elbow, suddenly remembering something. “Where’s your shadow?”

“… Fuck.” Truthfully, Boo had forgotten all about Doggett, something that she immediately felt a little bad about. If there was anyone _less_ equipped to act sensibly in a crisis, she sure as hell didn’t know them. “Probably holed up in the chapel, trying to ward off zombies with a homemade crucifix. _Fuck_.” She kneaded her forehead with the heel of her hand, thinking. “It’s not horrible if I don’t go looking for her, right? It’s not like I’m her prison mommy now. In the zombie apocalypse, it’s every man for himself.”

“Sure, don’t worry about it,” Nicky said. “We’d just get ourselves killed, and what good would that do her? Doggett’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

“So, uh… what’s your name?”

Silence.

“It’s Gomez, right? Or Diaz? I could’ve sworn there was two or three Diazes in here.”

Nothing.

“Well, I’m Doggett. Tiffany. And if you ever heard people talking about Pennsatucky, that’s me too.”

Blanca showed no indication of even hearing her. Tiffany sucked in a breath, annoyed.

“Come on. Hah-blo inglays?”

“You already heard me speak English,” Blanca finally said. “And it’s _hablo_. You don’t pronounce the _H_.”

“Whatever.” Tiffany folded her arms, leaning back against the wall. Company, coupled with the hours that had passed since she’d seen the monster, had made her bolder. She still didn’t feel quite brave enough to come out of the stall, but she’d moved onto the floor, wedging herself next to the toilet. It was kind of gross if she thought about it too much, but it was more comfortable than sitting on the seat, and felt safer than leaving the stall entirely.

Blanca, however, had long since slipped back out to keep trying the phone in various places around the bathroom— by the door, by the showers, even while standing on the sink ledge in hopes that being higher would make a difference. Nothing was netting any results.

“We could try leaving the bathroom,” Tiffany suggested half-heartedly, not sounding very thrilled about the idea. Blanca went back to ignoring her attempts at conversation, privately wondering when she and this weird white girl had become a _we_. Not that she wanted to get away from Doggett, really. The alternative— going it alone— was daunting. Doggett didn’t seem like she’d be all that _useful_ , but she was better than nothing. Probably.

A few minutes after Tiffany’s initial suggestion, Blanca lightly rapped her knuckles on the stall door. “Flores— I’m Flores. And I’m leaving. Are you coming?”

 

* * *

 

“Kill the brain,” Cindy repeated. “You think everybody else knows that?” There was a smattering of replies, none of them particularly confident: _I don’t know, maybe, probably not._ The little group just stood there, staring at the unmoving zombie on the ground.

“Yo, T,” said Poussey, jerking her chin at it. “You think you can do that again?”

Taystee looked down at her bloody, gory hands and gulped. “… Yeah. I think so.”


	12. You Should’ve Seen His Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for the long wait.

The eery quiet of the deserted halls set Janae on edge, spooking her every time she heard even the tiniest noise— the creak of a door, the flutter of papers in an office with an open window, the drip of a leaky bathroom faucet. Her footsteps sounded too loud and echoing for comfort. She was _sure_ that any minute now, she’d be overheard— the creature would show up and chase her, or a CO would suddenly appear to get her back in line. Fuck _that_. There weren’t any lines anymore. Just let them try to throw her in SHU— she’d run for real, this time.

From back behind her in the yard, she could still hear the screams. That more than anything spurred her forward— she was running to her girls, but she was also running away from danger. She just hoped she was going in the right direction. She was pretty sure that if she could get out through the loading dock by the kitchens, she’d run into them— but that was assuming they hadn’t already moved on, back into the building or towards some other part of the prison grounds. She sped up to a light jog, trying to ignore the rhythmic _pound, pound, pound_ of her feet hitting the ground. Usually, the sound helped her get into the groove when she ran. Today, it just distracted her.

The kitchen was empty, thankfully, and the loading dock door was already wide open. Janae poked her head out cautiously, and sure enough, there was a small group of inmates— her friends. And they were standing over a dead body.

“What the _fuck_!” Heads turned to her as she raced over, coming to a stop a few feet behind Taystee. “You guys killed a guard?” Everybody started talking at once.

“He wasn’t a guard anymore.“

“It was self-defense!”

“You should’ve seen his eyes—“

“And the black lady had to whack him against the building.”

“That shit was brutal, yo.”

“He was a monster,” Taystee added, her voice still a little shaky. “Just like the other one. I didn’t have a choice.”

“This shit is _fucked_ ,” Janae breathed, unable to hear her eyes away from the gruesome scene on the ground in front of her.

“Yeah, and we gotta get out of here. He’s—“ Taystee gave Ricci a ginger nudge with the toe of her shoe. “He ain’t getting back up again. His brain’s all smashed. If we can get the other one in the yard—”

Janae held her hands up. “I just _came_ from there. You want me to go back?”

“There’s a lot of people out there!” Taystee protested. “I’m not gonna leave ‘em all to die.”

“Yeah, exactly, there’s a lot of people against _one_ fucked-up monster dude. You took care of this one all by yourself, they can take care of that one thirty against one. _Math_ , bitches. I’m going out the gate.” She made eye contact with Cindy and Poussey. “You coming?”

“I am,” Angie piped up. Janae rolled her eyes.

“And who was asking _you_? Cindy. Poussey. _Taystee_. Come on.”

“Maxwell did say head for the gate,” Poussey said uncertainly. “But they don’t know that. Listen, T’s right. We can’t just leave them.”

Janae narrowed her eyes.

“Then we split.”

 

* * *

 

“Do not panic, do not panic, do not panic. Do _not_ panic. Do not panic, do not panic…” Instinctively, Suzanne reached up to slap at her forehead, but grabbed her wrist at the last second. “ _No_.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have come out from under the bed. Maybe that was a bad, _bad_ idea. It had gone so quiet, but quiet wasn’t always scary, and it was quiet here in the halls, too.

“It’s an _echoey_ quiet,” she whispered to herself, realizing what the difference was between there and here. “Not a cozy quiet.” Seeing it so empty was a novelty—like being in the hallways at school in the evening, after all the kids and teachers had gone home. If the situation weren’t what it was, she’d be tempted to run down the hall shouting _echo, echo_!

But right now, she definitely would have preferred the cozy quiet. No, amend that— she would have preferred any quiet at all, instead of the voices she heard approaching from another hallway up ahead.

“— and I always thought she was kind of a bitch, but it ain’t like I wanted her to get her throat ripped out, you know? She kind of reminded me of this real nasty girl I knew in high school, and I wouldn’t even want _her_ to get eaten by a zombie.”

Suzanne  _knew_ that voice, and it was a voice she did not like.

“When I think about it, I can’t think of anybody I’d want to get eaten by a zombie. Except… wait, no. Nope. Not even her.”

Suzanne flattened herself against the wall as two people rounded the corner in front of her— chattery little Pennsatucky, and a taller, quieter Hispanic woman whose name she didn’t know. When they spotted her, they stopped.

“Hey,” Pennsatucky said, a little cautiously. Suzanne glared.

“ _You_ need to get your own hallway. This one has been claimed—by me.”

Pennsatucky snorted. “You can’t claim a hallway! And it’s two against one, ‘cause I got Flores on my side here. Right, Flores?” Flores said nothing. Pennsatucky was undeterred. “She means to say right. She just don’t like to talk much. Come on.” With a jerk of her head, she started walking again, clearly expecting Flores to follow her. Suzanne stepped into the middle of the hallway with her arms crossed over her chest, fully prepared to block Pennsatucky’s path. It worked— Pennsatucky stopped.

“Jesus. What’s your problem?”

Suzanne stomped forward a couple of steps, jabbing a finger at her. “ _I do not like you._ ”

Now it was Pennsatucky’s turn to frown. “What? Why?”

It was a tough question that brought to mind too many tough things, and Suzanne was instantly angrier at her for having asked it. Luckily, she was saved from having to try to answer. Flores stepped forward, firm and towering, inserting herself in between the two women.

“I’m going through,” she said to Suzanne. “You shouldn’t be alone in here. You can come if you don’t get in my way. But if you do, I’ll leave you behind with her.”

Suzanne and Pennsatucky looked at each other warily— Suzanne more hostile, Pennsatucky more confused. But finally, Suzanne relented, uncrossing her arms and stepping to the side.

“Sir, yes, sir. Lead the way. And by the way—” She laid a hand on Flores’s shoulder. “ _Love_ the hair.”

 

* * *

 

Piper, Brook, and Red huddled together under one of the picnic tables, watching in silence as the zombie— and it _definitely_ was a zombie; Piper could see that now—shambled across the yard a few hundred feet away from them. Miraculously, it hadn’t caught anybody yet. Or maybe that wasn’t miraculous so much as _expected_ , because now that she was thinking a little more clearly, it didn’t really seem like that big of a threat. It was still a horrifying sight, but it couldn’t run. It didn’t have a weapon. It didn’t seem to be very smart. And there was only one. The screaming and panic had largely died down, once everybody started to realize how easy it was to avoid it. Now, everybody stood, sat, or crouched in clumps, solemnly watching as it made its way in circles around the yard. If it got too close to somebody for comfort, they simply moved away.

“Maybe we should…” Brook started, then trailed off. “Guys, don’t you think we should do something? We shouldn’t let it wander around like that. It seems cruel. Maybe somebody should put it out of its misery.”

“If you want to, be my guest,” Red replied. “Go.”

Brook didn’t go.

Without watches or clocks, it was hard to say how long this went on. It felt like hours. Piper’s back ached from hunching over, and she could only imagine how Red felt. She was about to suggest that they at least move, when suddenly the doors to the prison burst open. A few people screamed. A few more ran. Everybody was expecting another zombie, but instead—

“Zombie-killing team, in the _house_!”

Taystee, Poussey, and Yoga Jones careened into the yard, heading straight for the zombie. A few people, Piper and Brook among them, called out warnings, but they were summarily ignored. In a move that was clearly pre-coordinated, Poussey and Jones each grabbed one of the creature’s arms as Taystee went for the head, slamming it hard into the corner of one of the empty picnic tables. She repeated the motion— once, twice, three times— until she heard that crack and squelch. She let the body drop.

“Everybody,” Jones called, loud enough for all the inmates in the yard to hear. “You can move inside. It’s okay now.” She walked over to join Poussey, who had her hand on Taystee’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”


	13. Calm, Sort Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at long last! School really sucks any fic-writing drive out of me, sorry.

There was very little talk as the inmates in the yard trailed back into the building. Brook clutched tight to Piper’s hand, almost cutting off circulation in an effort to keep her fingers from shaking.

“This just doesn’t even seem real, you know?” she said in a hushed voice. “Piper? Does this seem real to you?” When Piper didn’t answer, Brook paused for a moment, and then continued.

“Where do you think everybody else went? There’s only, like, fifty people here. And I haven’t seen a guard in a while, have you? I guess that’s a stupid question, because I’ve been _with_ you, and—”

“Brook,” Piper snapped, pulling her hand away. “Shut up.”

Brook shut up.

There were no guards to be found inside the prison, either. The halls were mostly deserted, with only a few straggler inmates who latched on to the main group as they made their way through the doors and - by unspoken agreement - down the hall towards the cafeteria. Brook spotted Pennsatucky with a black girl and a Spanish girl, the latter of whom she was sticking surprisingly close to. She ducked behind Red, not wanting any of them to see her.

It was just _weird_ , seeing everyone like this. Brook didn’t think she’d ever seen such a big group stay this quiet before, in or out of prison. It was probably trauma, and okay, everyone reacted differently to trauma and she could respect that, but right now it was only freaking her out more. Tentatively, she reached out to grab Piper’s elbow, and was relieved when she wasn’t shaken off.

The cafeteria was also totally empty when they got there. Instinctively, most of the inmates started moving towards where their bed assignments had been the night they’d been stuck there because of the hurricane. The tables were in the way, and there were no mattresses, but they made do settling on the bare floor. Only Red broke off from the group completely, heading immediately for the kitchen and sharply gesturing for a couple of her girls to follow.

Tiffany wasn’t sure where to go. After giving her one final narrow-eyed look, the crazy-eyed black lady had vanished into the crowd, and Flores looked like she was about to leave her behind, too - she’d caught they eye of another Spanish girl, and if there was one thing Tiffany knew about Spanish girls, it was that they would _never_ choose to stay with a white girl when they had one of their own as an option. She could try to go with them, maybe, but they’d probably start speaking Spanish together, and she’d feel all weird and awkward because she couldn’t understand. She shuffled her feet a little, making it look like she was fixing to head off herself, and murmured a quiet, “Bye, Flores.” She was kind of hoping that Flores would turn around and tell her that she should stay— that they’d escaped the bathroom together, and that that meant they were a team now, and should stick together. But Flores didn’t even turn around.

Tiffany pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head, and walked away for real.

 

* * *

 

“I distracted him.”

Aleida, who was still walking close to her daughter even though she’d let go of her, looked over. “What?”

Daya swallowed hard. “I _distracted_ him. I said his name. I made him look at me.”

“So what? You were scared. We all do fucking stupid things when we’re scared.” Aleida clenched her fists at her side, half-stomping down the hallway. “Maybe _he_ should have known not to turn his back to where a monster might be. If you ask me, it’s more that idiot’s fault than yours, hm?”

“ _Jesus_ , Mom.”

“What? I’m only saying—”

“Forget it.” Pushing past her, Daya sped up to catch up with Gloria, who was walking a few paces ahead with Flaca. Gloria put her free arm around Daya’s shoulders, which made Aleida’s heart jump, but she covered it with a deep scowl.

“She’s always been like this,” she said, to no one in particular. “Picking the stupid ones. She had this boyfriend when she was sixteen—”

“Where are we going?” Maritza interrupted. She and Maria were bringing up the rear of the group.

“Out. Through a side door. We’re leaving,” Gloria called back. “The plan hasn’t changed. We all have kids and families to get back to.”

“How?” Aleida asked. “We don’t got no car. We should’ve searched his body for his keys.”

She was right. Gloria muttered a _fuck_ under her breath, but sped up, arms still tight around Flaca and Daya on either side of her. She didn’t want to backtrack unless they absolutely had no other choice. They were already wasting time going the long way around, and she really wanted to avoid making Daya - or any of them - walk past Bennett’s body. “Maritza, you know cars. Can you get in and start it up without a key?”

“Uh, yeah, if we can find it. I don’t know what his car looks like.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Aleida reasoned. “We can take any of them. Any guard loses their car, they’ll help each other out, no problem. But us? We’re on our own.”

 

 

* * *

 

“So let me get this straight. Because we’re black, we know how to hotwire a car?”

“Uh, _no_. No.” Angie gave an awkward laugh, stepping back from Janae and Black Cindy, who were staring pointedly at her. “No, that’s not why I said it. I meant because you’re, you know, from the city.”

“Bitch, how do you know we’re from the city?” Janae exclaimed. “You don’t know one damn thing about us.”

“You… _talk_ like you’re from the city,” Angie said, sounding unsure. “Look, forget it, okay? My sister taught me how when I was a kid, and I think I can remember how to do it.”

“Why is she even still with us?” Janae turned Cindy, ignoring Angie completely.

“She’s not.” Cindy waggled her fingers in an exaggerated wave. “Bye.”

“Woah, woah, wait.” Angie held up her hands. “I’m not going back in there.”

Janae crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not coming with us.”

“Okay, how about I go with you without going _with_ you. And then we _all_ go—”

“Go with _them_.” Janae pointed towards the loading dock door, which was still hanging open. “You hear that?” Sure enough, the sound of people moving around in the kitchen could be heard - _people_ people, talking too quietly to be understood from outside, but talking all the same. “Those are your people in there.”

Angie opened her mouth to protest that she was laundry, not kitchen crew, but the look on the other women’s faces left her slack-jawed. _Fine._ Whatever. She didn’t need them. She’d go find Leanne, or maybe even Penn. Anyone who left the prison was probably going to get sent to the SHU anyway, when everything went back to normal. Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched back through the door.

Janae watched her until she was sure she was _really_ going, and then turned to trot after Cindy.

The two walked in silence for a while, making their way towards the front of the building, until Cindy rounded a corner and immediately scrambled backwards, careening into Janae. “Holy _fuck!_ Dead guy, dead guy!”

“Dead _guard_. Shit.” Janae peered around Cindy’s shoulder, looking down at him with wide eyes. “Another one. Don’t any of these assholes know how to use their guns?”

“Maybe he _tried_ , but didn’t know about the brain thing. Yo, I wish Taystee was here. Do you think we need to…?’’

Janae grimaced. “He ain’t moving. Just leave him.” She gave his shoulder a little kick as she walked past. “This place isn’t our problem anymore.”

 

 

* * *

 

Sixty-one inmates in total started out in the cafeteria, but as time went by with no sign of any COs showing up, more and more started to trickle out. Word got around that Maxwell had given Taystee and her crew explicit permission to leave the prison, and to many, that sounded like a pretty good idea - maybe not the part about going through the woods, but out towards the parking lot, or through the front gate? That had to be a better bet than twiddling their thumbs in the cafeteria. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Tiffany watched their numbers dwindle as people left in twos and threes, mostly through the kitchen. Angie had come in a little while ago, and had given her an unsure smile before she’d headed over to Leanne. Flores was still with her Spanish friend. Boo wasn’t around— Tiffany had looked. She was alone, but at least things were calm, sort of. Nobody was crying or screaming, or being _eaten_. It was actually starting to get a little boring. She stretched her legs out in front of her, tilted her head back to lean against the wall, and started to think about maybe taking a nap.

All of a sudden, the door to the commissary room sprung open. Chang stood in the doorway. She spread her arms wide, then stepped aside.

“Commissary free for everybody!”


	14. Do Whatever You Gotta Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added to the story summary that all of this takes place between seasons 2 and 3 - that was probably pretty obvious when I first started writing it before season 3 even came out, but since we're up to season 5 by now, I figured it was time for me to clarify the timeline! Thanks for sticking with me and my slowness.

“Man, they’re _gone_.”Slowly, Poussey poked her head around the corner, and upon seeing that the hallway in front of them was empty, gestured Taystee forward. “All the guards. They all got cars. Why would they stay here?”

Taystee wrinkled her nose. “Then what about our girls? Look, I know I was talking about escape before, but thinking about those woods, I don’t like their chances. Maybe after this, we should—”

“Hold up.” Poussey stopped so short that Taystee nearly ran into her. “You hear that?”

The voices that floated up the stairs that led to the laundry room were a very particular type of hushed. They were the voices of naturally loud people _trying_ to be quiet, and not doing a very good job of it. Poussey jerked her head in the direction of the door.

“Uh, guys?” Taystee said as she walked into the room with Poussey at her heels. “If you think we _can’t_ hear you up there in the hall, you’re wrong.” Nicky muttered a _fuck_ under her breath, hopping off the folding table. Morello, who’d been perched next to her with her knees drawn up to her chest, leaned forward just slightly, as if she were thinking about making a grab for her.

“What’s it like out there?” Boo asked. “Still _Dawn of the Dead_?”

“We killed the one in the yard,” Poussey said. “And we’re, uh…” She trailed off, exchanging an uneasy look with Taystee.

“We gotta go finish off that white girl,” Taystee finished, looking grim.

“Yeah, the one who got bitten,” Poussey confirmed. “Look, we’re sorry if she was your friend and all, but—”

“No, by all means.” Boo strode forward to look cautiously up into the stairwell. “Kill the fucker. How many people are dead out there?”

“One of the guards got turned, so we killed him too,” Poussey answered. Boo arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, new plan. I’m sticking with these guys. They get shit done. Hey, have either of you seen Doggett? The skinny kid with the hoodie?”

“Pennsatucky? She’s in the cafeteria.”

Boo turned to Nicky and Morello, who were still hanging back. Morello had her hand on Nicky’s shoulder, her fingers curled into her shirt. “You really want to go out there?” Nicky asked. “I don’t know, Boo, we got a good thing going in here. Y'know, until we need food, or a bathroom, or—” She ran her fingers through her hair, agitated.

“Chang opened up the commissary,” Taystee offered. “She’s giving all that shit away for free. It’s going fast.”

Nicky let out a snort of laughter. “Going fast means it’s already gone. Come on, imagine it. All those free chips and tampons would’ve been blood in the water.”

But Morello wasn’t really listening— she was staring longingly at the stairs up out of the laundry room. She was almost out of her commissary-bought mascara, and Franny hadn’t topped off her account yet. Who knew if she ever would now? Who knew if she was even _safe_? She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat and put a hand over her chest, pressing in with her fingers to try to dull the sudden tightness there.

“Nicky? Nicky, I wanna go, okay? Boo’s right, you know we can’t stay down here forever.” Commissary mascara wasn’t really going to help anything— of course she knew that. It wasn’t even _good_ mascara, and they never carried her brand or any of her favorite shades. But if she could just freshen up her face a little, she knew she’d feel better. The makeup she had on now was smeared with sweat and tears. If she could make herself look nice and ready to take on the world, she was sure things would be just a little bit easier.

“What do you think, Nichols?” Boo asked. “I told Doggett I was going to have her memorize the Dyke Pledge of Allegiance. You really wanna pass up the chance to help me write that? Because this offer is going _once_ , going _twice_ —”

Nicky groaned, but she offered a hand to Morello to help her off the table. “All right, all right, all right. _Jesus_. Into the shitstorm we go.”

 

—————————————————————————————————————————————

 

“What’d they say her name was? Marnie? Mercy?”

“Marcia. You know, like the girl from _The Brady Bunch_?”

Poussey guffawed. “You watched the fucking _Brady Bunch_?”

“Man, shut up, I—” This time it was Taystee that stopped short, cutting herself off. “Is that a guard’s radio?”

“Shit, yeah.” Poussey brushed past her and trotted over to where it was lying on the ground several yards ahead of them. “You think we should try to call someone? Do they have their own frequencies? I don’t know how these things work.”

“How the _hell_ did this thing end up on the ground? I thought they were, like, connected to their uniforms.” Taystee took the radio and fiddled with it, tapping the mouthpiece and pressing buttons. “Uh, hello? Hellooooo? Caputo? Maxwell? Anybody, c’mon!”

After a long moment, the radio crackled. _“Taystee?”_

 

—————————————————————————————————————————————

 

_“Cindy?!”_

“Yo, gimme that!” Janae made a grab for the radio that they’d pulled off the body of Donaldson, lying motionless at their feet. “Guys, there’s dead guards all over the place out here! You lucky we were passing by one and heard you call. When are you coming out?”

_“Look, there’s a lot of shit going on in here. White girl zombie’s still running around the dorms.”_

Janae scoffed. “That sounds like a whole lot of _not your problem._ ”

“Come on, T.” Cindy leaned in over the radio. “We gonna get us a _car_.”

There was a second’s hesitation from Taystee on the other end. _“We gotta do this. You really gonna go without us?”_

In the background, Poussey muttered something that neither of them could catch.

“Man, listen.” Janae pressed a thumb to her temple, kneading it. “This is the smart thing, getting out while we still got a chance.”

“But we got these radios!” Cindy interjected. “We used radios like this at the airport, and they got more of a range than you’d think. By the time you ready to come, maybe we still be in contact. _Maybe_ we can meet up. Y’all go kill your white girl, do whatever you gotta do, and _then_ you come. Aight?” She looked to Janae, standing tight-lipped and silent next to her, for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Janae finally said. “Yeah, Cindy’s got a good plan. Don’t you two go messing it up by feeling like you gotta be the prison heroes just because you the best at killing zombies.”

 

—————————————————————————————————————————————

 

After hanging up with Cindy and Watson, Poussey and Taystee were both quiet for a few minutes until Taystee spoke up. “What did you mean by that thing you said?”

“What thing?”

“I asked if they was gonna leave us behind, and you said ‘Wouldn’t be the first time’. What’d you mean by that?”

Poussey looked away. “Think you know what I meant.”

Taystee gripped the radio a little more tightly. “You thinking of me too, when you say stuff like that?”

“Look, just forget about it, okay?” Poussey shook her head, speeding up a little. “Doesn’t matter.”

They walked on in silence.

 

—————————————————————————————————————————————

 

“They’re not coming.” Janae’s footfalls quickly turned into outright stomps as she and Cindy continued on their way to the parking lot. “Man, whatever. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Woah.” Cindy put a hand on Janae’s arm, stopping her. “Whole mess of Spanish girls, twelve o’clock.”

Mariza noticed them first, and pointed. “Hey, you! Have you guys been bit? You better tell us if you’ve been bit, because—”

“ _No_ , we haven’t been bit, fool; you think we’d be alive if we’d been bit?” Cindy snapped.

Janae crossed her arms over her chest. “You all headed to the parking lot?”

“Yup,” Gloria answered, a little warily. Her arm was still around Daya, who had her teary face half-buried against her shoulder.

“You got keys?”

“We gonna hotwire.”

Janae and Cindy looked at each other. Janae gave a slight nod, then turned back to the group. “We walk together for safety?”

Gloria glanced around for any kind of objection, and then answered for them. “Sure. Let’s go.”

 

—————————————————————————————————————————————

 

The door to A-Dorm stood ajar. Taystee could see the dead white girl lying on the floor, blood pooling around her from a large hole ripped into her neck. “Damn,” she said in a hushed voice. “She don’t even look like a zombie. She just looks… dead.”

“She’s not gonna look like that for long if we don’t take care of her,” Poussey said. She hesitated a moment, remembering their tense conversation a few minutes earlier, and then reached out and squeezed Taystee’s arm. “Come on. We gotta do it.”

Slowly, the two eased their way into the room.

“I feel like we should say something, like in her honor,” Poussey said as they stood over the body. “This feels _fucked_. Like desecrating a body.”

“Just be quiet for a minute.” Taystee was breathing a little more heavily than normal. “I just… need the quiet.” She steeled herself, then grabbed the girl by the front of her shirt, trying to avoid touching too much of the blood as she hauled her up and took hold of her head. “Marcia,” she said, staring into her dead face. “I’m real sorry that this happened to you. And I’m sorry we keep calling you ‘white girl’, ‘dead girl’, ‘zombie girl’, all of that. I want you to know—” Her breath caught, but then she continued. "I want you to know that I’m gonna be calling you by your name from now on. I didn’t know you, but I’m gonna remember who you were.” She looked over at Poussey. “You got anything you wanna add?”

Poussey swallowed thickly and shook her head. “Nah, that was good. That was perfect.”

“Okay, then.” Taystee closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and swung Marcia’s head hard towards the concrete wall.


End file.
